


Crush Crush One: Adversaries

by Sobong_HyungSeung



Series: Crush Crush [1]
Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-03-30 11:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13950192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sobong_HyungSeung/pseuds/Sobong_HyungSeung
Summary: "Min Yoongi is dead (I killed him)".





	Crush Crush One: Adversaries

Hoseok was confident about his driving test, or so he (wanted to) believed. But if he was brave enough to open up with himself, he'll had to admit that rather than sure he felt scared, and instead of acting like a reliable person, right now he resembled more like a peevish and skittish child trying to convince himself about his own worth, which was about to be tested in a practical exam. He already had the results of the theoretical test and they were as satisfying as a 'pass' can be in any situation; the neon alike green his name emanated from the old computer's screen was reflected in his eyes, the number of right responses -twenty nine out of thirty- imprinting in his pupils like ink pressing against a scrap of paper; before he went downstairs to tell his mother his score (he seemed a child who puts a brilliant exam pending by a magnet on the fridge, his chest puffing up like a balloon), yelling and dancing cheerfully, a wide smile had already painted itself on the tanned canvas that was his skin: it had been drawn by a thick brush, with snappy touches and a lot of paint -some of it was falling to the floor, soaked the hair of the pencil. It was a cute picture, a warm nest outstanding in Hoseok's pinky lips, little white eggs peeping out. The mouth was shiny, it seemed it was wet, kissed by tiny teardrops the sky had long forgotten it had; falling water, lost and cold rain caressing a thirsty man, a dry desert, a something full of nothing: that was him. Harsh as it may sound, it was a good description of who he was, and on bad days he knew it: he could see out of the corner of the eye his personality's emptiness, the tiny he was, and he would feel ashamed while remembering his best accomplishment was winning a spelling contest when he was eight. Those times were what he called 'bad days', and usually it would mean to lie on the couch eating snacks whilst watching cheesy movies that would make him (have a excuse to) cry. But on good days he was totally different; a bunch of adrenaline flooded the space he was in, people felt it: it was like a temperature increase, electric waves of heat pressing against the naked skin; caressing it softly, giving it chills, making people's hair stand on end. It was truly amazing, canned pleasure, the orgasm's prelude: when Hoseok smiled -and he did that a lot: I mean, that was the normal state of things, with his teeth showing up in a exuberant way and the dimples, that motherfucking holy dimples sinking through the flesh like a boat wrecking into the sea -whoever was with him could feel the intense urgency of loving him; he or she would then smile in return feeling a bit relieved, less empty. He was so adorable, so naive, so happy, and life was so fucked up, so messy, so dark and dirty... Therefore to watch Hoseok laughing was something it was worthy pay for. He didn't know it, of course: if he found out the stranger's thoughts, he would be too embarrassed to illuminate the room; too shy to shout for every fucking cute or funny or scary thing he would see; too aware to let it go, because he was crazier than the Joker (Heath Ledger's version, of course) when he wanted to: his horselaugh was intense and loud, sometimes creepy, it would seem. At least that was what it would look like to him, who lacked self-esteem an had plenty of hate for himself.  
  
And so, rather than believe Jung Hoseok was trying to convince Jung Hoseok itself that he believed. He had everything on his side, wasn't it? He had studied a lot if he could put it that way. Once again, it was all about the practical exam, and he had done it: he had practiced almost every day, drove his father's car whenever the old Literature's teacher wouldn't need it and wouldn't mind about his younger (and wilder) son trying not to smash his brain, hitting the asphalt, the front glass inlaying in the skin. Yeah, maybe he was the first who lacked confidence about the boy, but it wasn't definitively his fault the guy hadn't graduated yet. Good for nothing, would say his eyes, more like a question than like an assertion: there was fear in his gaze, paternal concern, but Hoseok couldn't understand it yet; he would get frustrated over the fact that his own father didn't seem to see his potential (because on good days he was aware that he had something to offer, and oh boy, how proud he would get) and so he would feel more pressure, a new kind of apprehension constraining his lungs, breaking his ribs like that day years before when he fell from a tree and thought death was the one who caught him in his arms, and not the floor, which definitely was harder and colder. Right now Jung Hoseok was feeling again the eagerness of not knowing what was going on, and it dropped in his tongue the kind of sense that involves ignorance, that which would make cry a little boy (and he, of course, was a baby inside). 'I don't know, man, I just... I just want to drive Jiwoo to her job, or mum to the market. I... want to be useful, I guess', he was thinking, and well, it was comprehensible.


End file.
